Part of Your World
by momoko775PennilessPoetess
Summary: (NEW!! CH. 8!!!)Satine was born an angel in heaven, but has dreams that even paradise can never give her - being a human and falling in love. A wish, granted, will create the greatest love story the world has ever known.
1. Falling

The day had just dawned in the brightening sky, breaking into the morning. Below the clouds, birds began a soft tune as people began to wake up as they did from day to day.  
  
Above the clouds, in Heaven, the angels woke from their fluffy cloud beds.  
  
Satine stretched her arms and legs as the feathers of her wings spread out, and settled gold shoes onto her feet.  
  
She folded her hands in her lap as she sat at her vanity and drank in the sight of the liquid gold sun, glinting in the horizon.  
  
"Morning," a dark haired woman said, peaking her head past Satine's mirror.  
  
Satine laughed slightly. "Oh, hello. How wonderful to see you."  
  
"Did you see the sun today?"  
  
"I did. Isn't it splendid?" Satine smiled. "I'll be out in just a second."  
  
She watched as her friend went around the corner and she sighed, looking up at the sun. It was so beautiful. For lifetimes she lived above the clouds, watching the same gorgeous sun rise and set.  
  
She loved it all, she felt her heart lift and become light every peaceful morning. Everything here was perfect, unlike down below. Wars, murder. . . things good angels should never hear about was happening below them. To help the humans was one thing, but to watch them was another thing. But sometimes, when shimmering silver played in the darkness she swirled around the clouds and watched the curious creatures below.  
  
Satine sighed as she looked over her shoulder and saw no one. She bent down and swirled the clouds, and a hole opened up, showing a window into a family's house as they worked around their log cabin - chopping wood, patting their dogs, kissing their wives.  
  
"I want much more than this provincial life," she whispered without thinking. She looked over her shoulder again, and seeing no one, she continued, singing this time. "I want adventure in the great wide somewhere. I want it more than I can tell. And for once it might be grand to have someone understand." She reached out and touched the people in the mirror. "I want so much more than they've got planned."  
  
"Satine, are you writing a poem without me in there?" Catherine asked, coming around the corner.  
  
Satine waved her hand over the hole quickly as she hastily stood up. "No. . . no, just talking to myself."  
  
"About what?"  
  
Satine sat completely still as she reached for a piece of parchment.  
  
"Just reading this poem. . . out loud."  
  
"What does it say?"  
  
Satine bit her pale lips and pushed her flaming red hair over her shoulder. This poem was not just any poem - it was a human's poem. Not even to her dearest friend was Satine willing to tell her this.  
  
"Oh, no. . . it's not very good," she insisted, though she had never read the poem.  
  
"Oh, I bet it is." The dark haired angel held her hand out.  
  
"Oh, no really. . ."  
  
"Please, I'd like to see it." She reached out and held it in front of her eyes.  
  
"I had withdrawn in the forest," Catherine read aloud, "and my song was swallowed up in leaves that blew away. And to the forest edge you came and looked and pondered long, but you did not enter, though the wish was strong. Not far, but near, I stood and saw it all behind low boughs the trees let down outside. And the sweet pang it cost me not to call and tell you that I saw does still abide. But 'tis not true that thus I dwelt aloof, for the wood wakes, and you are here for proof."  
  
As Catherine read, her voice became quiet, until at the end her voice was shaky in a whisper. "This. . . this is wonderful," Catherine said quietly. "But how did you. . ."  
  
"Please don't ask."  
  
"Below the clouds. . . these emotions. . ." She suddenly became quiet as Satine stood and held her friend.  
  
A long time ago, Catherine had been murdered and she had to abandon her family and the man she loved to come and be an angel. Only once had she shared the tale before breaking down into sobs.  
  
"I didn't write it," Satine whispered.  
  
Catherine lifted her head, and with red splashed eyes she said, "What?"  
  
"I got it. . ." She took in a deep breath. "I got it from below."  
  
Catherine gasped and pulled away, her hand raising to her mouth. "You. . . below. . ."  
  
"A human wrote it," she whispered. She pointed to a stack of papers. "They wrote those." She pushed back a lid by her bed and an even larger stack revealed more papers. "They wrote all these."  
  
"But how did you. . ." Catherine started.  
  
"It's not important how I got them."  
  
"But. . . you can't do this! The human race. . ."  
  
"Is wonderful!" Satine said, smiling widely.  
  
"But you heard about all I went through down there, all the evil. . ."  
  
"Not everything about them is evil. Look at these papers." She crouched and thumbed through some of them. "They talk about love, Catherine. Love!"  
  
"I can't believe this."  
  
"Above all things I believe in love," Satine whispered, reading a paper slowly. "Love is like oxygen. Love is a many splendor thing. Love lifts us up to where we belong. All you need is love!"  
  
Catherine said nothing.  
  
"How can you stand there and hear that and still think they're evil, Catherine?"  
  
"Down there. . . they kill."  
  
"And down there they love. You were in love once, Catherine. Don't tell me you forgot about Fredrick already."  
  
"You don't know what you're talking about, Satine," her friend said, facing her. "You've never been down there, you've never walked the streets out there all alone with nothing but the rain to keep you company."  
  
"But I'd like to." Satine clapped her hand over her mouth, regretting the words that came out of her mouth. Trade utopia for shades of gray? She had thought about it before, but to say it aloud. . .  
  
"You'd like to?" Catherine whispered.  
  
Satine turned away and looked at the parchment with the beautiful words of love on them. "Maybe there is something the matter with me. . . but I just don't see how a world that makes such wonderful things could be bad."  
  
Satin sat down slowly and sighed. "I've lived here all my life. . . it's so beautiful here. . . and wouldn't you think I'm the girl who has everything? I have everything I'd ever need. . . but who cares? No big deal. I want more." She swirled the clouds to make another hole. "I wanna be what the people are," she whispered. "I wanna see, wanna see them dancing."  
  
The world turned under her fingers in the mirror through a beaten path in the woods and over a hill to a city with buildings and skylines. "Up where they walk, up where they run. Up where they stay all day in the sun. Wandering free, wish I could be part of that world."  
  
The mirror changed again, and showed a beach with blue-green waves washing over large rocks under the same liquid-gold sun. "What would I pay to spend a day warm on the sand?"  
  
The mirror under her fingers showed a couple hugging on a hill and she slowly took in a breath. "When's it my turn, when I love, love to explore that shore up above? Out of the clouds, wish I could be. . . part of that world."  
  
With tears in her eyes, Catherine turned away and left.  
  
Satine sighed and looked at the paper that had found it's way out of her hand. "Above all things I believe in love. . ." she whispered. The author wrote of such beautiful passion. She felt a deep feeling sweep over her entire body, but she couldn't explain it. How could you explain something you didn't understand?  
  
It was a beautiful poem. . . maybe written for his wife or fiancée. She swirled the clouds and the mirror took her to the bedroom of the poet - a young man. He was stooped over a typewriter. When, finally, he straightened, Satine held her breath.  
  
He was so beautiful. . . dark, midnight hair, soft blue-green eyes, and his smile. . . as soft as rose petals.  
  
She felt a strange feeling come over her as she watched him get up and move around the room, look out his window at a fairly large field, and felt words bubble up her throat.  
  
"What would I give to live where you are?" she whispered, not caring if anyone was behind her. "What would I pay to stay here beside you? What would I do to see you, smiling at me?" He turned suddenly, and he looked like he was looking exactly at her. . . and grinned. She laughed slightly as she ran her fingers through her hair. "Where would we walk? Where would we run if we could stay all day in the sun? Just you and me and I could be. . . part of your world."  
  
"It's done," someone said behind her.  
  
Satine turned suddenly and saw Catherine at the doorway. "Wh-what?"  
  
"It's done," she said again. "You won't remember anything here. . . you're going to be given a new identity. But five minutes before you die, you'll remember it all."  
  
Satine stood and began to walk toward her. "What are you. . ."  
  
Catherine hastily hugged her tightly. "Oh Satine. . . be careful." She kissed her on the cheek and left quickly.  
  
"No, wait. . ." Before Satine could do anything, her wings began to vanish and the clouds under her feet blinded her with a white light and she fell, plunging toward the ground below.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
When Satine woke next, she was laying on a cold, hard floor. She rubbed her head as she lifted herself off of the ground.  
  
"Are you all right?" asked a voice.  
  
Satine turned and met the eyes of a man with three shades of red hair and rosy cheeks. He wore a red tailcoat and red knee pants and held a black cane.  
  
"Where. . . where am I?"  
  
"Why. . . we just found you on the floor," he said, putting his hand on her forehead. "Darling, you're here. . . at the Moulin Rouge."  
  
----------------------------------------- Disclaimer: All characters belong to me and my good friend Baz.  
  
A/N: Ok, I had this idea for a while. . . don't know when it came, but I was already committed to another project, so I just started this. I was just hit by inspiration one night and started to write it. . . Hope it turned out ok! And I hope you don't take offence to the way I portrayed the angels and Heaven. And I used a poem by Robert Frost. . . hehe if you thought I wrote it. Thanks a bunch!  
  
Songs used: 'Belle' reprise from Beauty and the Beast, 'Part of your World' from the Little Mermaid(the best Disney movie!!!!) sorry I changed it a bit!, 'Part of your World(reprise) from the LM. 


	2. A Star Is Born

"You have any family in Paris?" the man with three shades of red hair asked.  
  
She put her hand to her head. Whenever she tried to think about the questions they asked her, her head started to throb. "I don't know."  
  
"Do you have a place to stay?"  
  
She winced with pain as she thought and whispered, "I don't know."  
  
"Well, do you have a name, duckling?"  
  
The girl scratched at the edge of the thin blanket wrapped around her slender body. She opened her mouth, and without thinking, said, "Satine."  
  
The man's eyes twinkled like Santa Clause. "Beautiful name. . . a great stage name. The men would love it."  
  
A woman with heavy makeup and wavy, pulled back blonde hair poked her elbow into his side. "Harold, don't do this to her now."  
  
"I was just saying-"  
  
"Enough." She turned to Satine and held out her arm, smiling. "I'm Marie, sweetie. Come on, deary, lets find you some clothes to wear. That dress of yours is so thin for winter."  
  
Satine nodded, slowly following her.  
  
Marie led her out of Harold's office and took her backstage. Women with heavy makeup peaked at her from their bunk beds as they walked past, whispering 'Who's she?'  
  
They finally reached a small oak door and Marie led her inside and sat her down on a small stool. Satine held her breath as she scanned the room, where every inch of the walls was covered with racks holding dozens and dozens of clothes.  
  
"What is this place?" she whispered to herself.  
  
"It's the costume room," Marie said, picking out an emerald dress. She held it up to Satine, then shook her head and disappeared behind a ruffly rack.  
  
Satine gripped her hands in her lap. She felt if she looked up into the many colors and fabric dresses, she would lose herself. There was a silent voice calling to her to them, to the stage. . .  
  
Marie took her arm and Satine stood, Marie holding up a long sleeved violet dress up to her. "That's the one," she whispered, handing it to her. "You must be exhausted. . . you can sleep in my room tonight. I need to check on something right now. . . I'll be right back."  
  
She smiled slightly and left out the door.  
  
Satine held the dress up and examined it. It was made out of a thin cotton- like material and there was black-mesh around the neck. She pressed it to her nose and smelled of talcum powder and stage makeup.  
  
She scanned the racks, running her fingers feeling a history in each of them, and ventured over to the back corner. She was startled by something moving, and laughed when she realized the small mirror.  
  
"It's just. . . you, who ever you are," she whispered. She touched her face, her pale ivory face and her flushed cheeks. She ran her fingers through her wavy red hair and down her thin figure. "Who are you? Who is Satine? Where is this place you left me?"  
  
She laughed, she actually hoped she would receive an answer out of her reflection, and touched her dress. It wasn't much - a plain sleeveless gown of white silk. As she looked in the mirror, she felt alone. Wherever this place was. . . it was so foreign to her, or at least it felt that way.  
  
She felt cold. Her legs were week. . . all she wanted to do was sleep. With the violet dress in her hand, she went out to meet Marie, only to see she wasn't there.  
  
Satine bit her lip, not knowing what to do.  
  
"So look who the cat dragged in," said a cold voice with a dulled accent. Satine turned her head and met an icy stare.  
  
"E. . . excuse me?"  
  
The woman had raven-dyed hair, pulled back so tightly that her face looked stretched. She wore only a corset, fishnets, and a small skirt. "Everyone wants to know, princess. . . who are you?"  
  
"I. . . I. . ."  
  
"I-I? That's your name?" A few girls had joined behind her and started laughing.  
  
"Satine," she whispered, straightening up.  
  
"Satine, huh?" she said to herself. "Why are you in here?"  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"You a prostitute? You a runaway? What's you're story?" She placed her hand on the wall next to Satine, preventing her from running away if she wanted.  
  
"I don't know what you mean."  
  
"I MEAN, what's your story? Everyone has one. Harold never lets just. . . anyone come here."  
  
"What's. . . your's?" Satine asked, sinking backward, away from the woman's leering face.  
  
"Everything," she whispered, beaming. She reached down and flicked the small straps on Satine's dress. "This is my place. . . my home. I run the show here. . . stay out of my way."  
  
"Nini," someone growled behind her. "Stay away from her."  
  
The woman with the tight face flashed her eyes as she sank away.  
  
Marie glared at Nini until she disappeared completely. "I swear, that girl. . ."  
  
"Who was she?" Satine asked.  
  
"No one. Just stay away from her. . . she's trouble."  
  
"M. . . marie?"  
  
"Yes?" the older woman asked.  
  
"What's going to happen to me?"  
  
"I don't know. Maybe you'll be a lucky one. . . fly away from here."  
  
"Fly?" she whispered to herself. The idea of soaring through the blue sky sent a smile to her lips. "What is this place? What's. . . the Moulin Rouge?"  
  
Marie smiled for a moment. "A Dance hall. But that's not important. You must be exhausted. . . lets get you to bed. You can sleep in my room tonight."  
  
She extended her arm again and led Satine past more bunk beds and whispers until arriving to another small room.  
  
"It's not much. . ." The single bed filled up half of the room. "But it's home." She smiled sadly. "Do you need anything else? I need to get going. . . the show is starting soon."  
  
"What year is it?"  
  
"1897. November. We had an early snow. . ."  
  
"1897. . ." she whispered.  
  
Marie patted her cheek. "I have to get going. Good night." She kissed her on the cheek and hurried out of the room.  
  
Satine shut the door slowly and looked around the small cramped room.  
  
"Is this home?" she whispered. "Never dreamed that a home could be so. . . dark and cold. Is this what I must learn to believe in? Try to find something good in this tragic place, just in case I should stay here forever, held in this empty place? Am I here for a day or forever?"  
  
She heaved a sigh as she sat down on the bed. For the first time that day, she felt tears starting to come out. Her mind was an empty box, with only the small memory of her name to fill it.  
  
"The past is now another land," she sang, the words suddenly landing on her tongue, "far beyond my reach. Invaded by insidious foreign bodies, foreign speech. Where timeless joys of childhood lie broken on the beach."  
  
She looking at her somber face in a small painted hand mirror. What was to happen to her? No recollection of family, friends. . . anything. Where was she to live? Would Mr. Zidler let her live here? Would she want to? "The present is an empty space between the good and bad. A moment leading nowhere, too pointless to be sad. But time enough to lay to waste every certainty I had."  
  
Her chin quivered as tears started to roll down her cheek. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. "The future is a barren world, from which I can't return. Both heartless and material, its wretched spoils not my concern. Shining like an evil sun as my childhood treasures burn."  
  
She jumped at a knock at the door, and without saying a word Harold opened the door. He clasped his hands, his eyes becoming wide.  
  
"Oh my goodness. . ." His smile was growing into his shadowy eyes. "I was looking for Marie. . . was that you singing?"  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered, putting down the mirror and climbing to the front of the bed. "I was just going to bed. . ."  
  
"What, at this hour? It's just 11:30! The show is about to start!" He reached out his cold hand and clawed it to her arm, pulling her with him out into the hall.  
  
"But sir-"  
  
"Now, nothing. I see talent when I see it. You do want to be an actress, don't you?" He stopped suddenly and pushed his face closely to hers. "Travel around the world. . . meet new people. . . make thousands of dollars." He flashed his smile again. "Who wouldn't want to be involved? Showbiz. . . that's the only life for me. And you, too, it seems."  
  
He dragged her along further. People in corsets and big flashy petticoats rushed along backstage.  
  
"Yes, there is nothing better in the world then show business."  
  
"Even better than love?"  
  
He stopped suddenly and his grip on her loosened. His hand fell at his side and he breathed slowly. "No laws, no limits, only one rule: never fall in love." He turned to her, the smile gone from his face and only a cold stare as he pointed his finger at her. "You want to live. . . you go by that. You step out of it, and you'll be on the streets with nothing, living a useless dream. You hear?"  
  
Satine gulped as she slowly nodded. The question was on the back of her mind. . . she had no clue what love was. But somehow, she knew it was important, the most important thing in this world-  
  
She shook her head. 'Remember what Monsieur. Zidler said. . . a useless dream. You need to find out who you are, Satine, not destroy it.'  
  
"So. . . you ready to go on stage?" he asked her, interrupting her thoughts.  
  
"S-stage?" she gasped, ripping her hand out of his. "What?"  
  
"You do want to be on there, don't you?"  
  
Satine balled her hand into a fist and pressed it to her heart. It was beating so fast. . . is this what it feels when you know you want something? "But I don't know what to do."  
  
"Just. . . sing something. The men'll love you!" He turned her around to face the stage and hugged her shoulders. "You'll do great!"  
  
Their voices of the performers on stage seeped through the red velvet curtain. "Lovely ladies, waiting for a bite. Waiting for the customers who only comes at night. Lovely ladies, waiting for the call. Standing up or lying down or any way at all. Bargain prices up against the wall."  
  
Zidler leaned over and yelled about the noise, "I'll tell the orchestra to wrap it up. . . give you an entrance that you deserve."  
  
Satine opened her mouth, but he was already gone. She smoothed her silk dress - practically a night gown, and frowned. This place was classy. . . how she go on in a nightgown and no clue of what to sing? Biting her lower lip, she inched closer to the curtain and peaked through and was surprised at what she saw.  
  
There were women in flashy costumes and bright, heavy makeup. They kicked their legs up high in the air, showing off multi-colored petticoats. They touching men, fell on them, pushing their head in their dresses. . . She suddenly felt very OVERdressed  
  
"Lovely ladies, waiting in the dark," they sang. "Ready for a thick one or a quick one in the park."  
  
Long time, short time, any time my dear," an Aisan-looking girl with dark hair sang, flashing up her skirt. "Cost a little extra if you want to take all year!"  
  
"Quick and cheap is underneath the pier!" they sang together as they moved through out the crowd, flipping up their skirts more as men in tailcoats and top hats cheered.  
  
Satine turned away from the curtain. "I can't do this. . ." she whispered.  
  
"Old men, young men, take 'em as they come," they sang. "Harbor rats and alley cats and every type of scum. Poor men, rich men, leaders of the land. See them with their trousers off they're never quite as grand. All it takes is money in your hand! Lovely ladies, going for a song. Got a lot of callers but they never stay for. . . long. . ."  
  
The band stopped playing and the lights suddenly dimmed, except for one white spotlight on the center of the stage.  
  
"That's you!" Harold hissed in her ear, making her jump. "Go!" He pushed her out toward the spotlight.  
  
Satine stumbled out from behind the curtain, staring at the wooden floor of the stage. Everything was so quiet. . . for a moment she thought everyone was gone and she took her chances to glance up through her lashes at the crowd. Around the glare of the light she caught a glimpse of white shirt collars facing the stage, unmoving. The dancers that they were once so captivated by shrank away into the darkness.  
  
"Spend all your time waiting," she said softly, looking back down at the floor, "for that second chance. For a break that would make it okay. There's always some reason to feel not good enough. . . and it's hard at the end of the day. I need some distraction. Oh, beautiful release. Memories seep from my veins." She glanced up at the crowd, and was amazed that these were the same ones who were chasing after the scantly-clad dancers. "Let me be empty and weightless, then maybe I'll find some peace tonight."  
  
She wrapped her arms around her body as she moved across the stage, her bare feet and wispy breaths the only sound. "The only in the arms of the angel, far away from here from this dark, cold hotel room and the endlessness that you feel. You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie." She reached her hand up to the heavens, where a warm light was drawing her in. "You're in the arms of the angel. . . may you find some comfort here."  
  
She pulled her hand in to her chest as the words continued to flow off her tongue. "So tired of the straight line and everywhere you turn there's vultures and thieves at your back. The storm keeps on twisting. . . you keep on building the lies that you make up for all that you lack." The orchestra played a few low, slow notes and she cocked her head toward them and smiled. "It don't make no difference, escaping one last time. It's easier to believe in this sweet madness, this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees."  
  
She closed her eyes and soaked in the warmth of the spotlight. She felt complete, felt that this was who she was. "In the arms of the angel, far away from here from this dark, cold hotel room and the endlessness that you feel. You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie. You're in the arms of the angel, may you find some comfort here." She looked to the side, to no where in particular, and smiled. "You're in the arms of the angel's. . . may you find some comfort here."  
  
It was so quiet. . . the only sound she heard was the sound of her breath and she slowly turned. She froze in her tracks when someone in the crowd clapped once, slowly. Then again, then again, and again, picking up speed.  
  
Others joined in, and before she knew it, the whole house was applauding and cheering.  
  
Harold joined her at her side. "Not too shabby for you're first time. . . we'll work on another song for next time."  
  
Satine, with a tear in her eye, looked at Zidler.  
  
"You do what to sing with me, don't you?"  
  
She could do nothing but nod.  
  
Zidler smiled and hugged her shoulders, turning her around. "Satine! Satine!" he chorused, the only men joining in.  
  
Satine smiled widely, as behind the stage Marie broke down into sobs. . . another star was born, another dreamer's wings were clipped.  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to me and my good friend Baz. Kinda got the original idea of an angel(mermaid) becoming human from The Little Mermaid.  
  
A/N: Wow. this took me SUCH a long time. I don't know if it was writers block or I was just so busy. . . I think it was all. Thanks for being patient, everyone. I hope you enjoyed this!  
  
Songs used: 'Home' from the Beauty and the Beast musical, 'The Past Is Another Land' from Aida, 'Lovely Ladies' from Les Miserables, 'Angel' by Sarah McLachlan 


	3. Jerome

Satine fell asleep early in the morning. Harold Zidler came in at about 7:00 and saw curled up in blankets, a soft smile on her flawless face, with a small curl of red hair over her cheek.  
  
"She's perfect," he whispered to himself.  
  
"Leave her be, Harold."  
  
Harold looked up sharply and saw Marie, her dress crumpled, rising from a chair in the corner.  
  
"She was wonderful tonight. . . did you hear that crowd?"  
  
"She's not like the rest of your can-can whores. She's. . . real."  
  
"And wonderful. I'm going to make her a star." Marie opened her mouth to speak more, but Harold quickly said softly, "And if you don't want to be living on the streets, you' think so, too."  
  
Satine made a low sound in her sleep and turned over, rubbing her eyes. "Mmm. . . what are you two talking about?" she asked groggily.  
  
Marie looked down at her feet as Harold sat on the edge of her bed. "We were just discussing. . . a permanent job for you here." Satine's eyes sparkled like diamonds as she smiled.  
  
"Really?" she asked, rising form the pillow.  
  
"You'll be my star."  
  
"Only if you want this," Marie said, sitting down and taking her hand. "It's not to late to leave. . . you can start your life anywhere in the world. You're not obligated to stay here."  
  
"I haven't even been here a whole day. . . but I love it. When I was on that stage. . ." Satine smiled. "It was like magic. I can't abandon something I love."  
  
Zidler clapped his hands together. "You hear that, Marie? My little strawberry is going to be staying with us!"  
  
Marie sank away, with a sick expression on her face. "Yeah. . ." she said weakly. "So I heard."  
  
"It's like I always say. . ." He jumped up and flicked on the light. Satine squinted for a moment, and slowly opened her eyes.  
  
"There's no business like show business like no business I know!" Harold sang, doing a little jig in the cramped room. "Everything about it is appealing, everything that traffic will allow. Nowhere could you get that happy feeling when you are stealing that extra bow." He paused a moment and sat down next to her again. "There's no people like show people, they smile when they are low. Even with a turkey that you know will fold, you may be stranded out in the cold. Still you wouldn't change it for a sack of gold, let's go on with the show."  
  
Satine laughed as he jumped up on the bed and danced around some more. "There's no business like show business and I tell you it's so. Traveling through the country is so thrilling, standing out in front on opening nights." He gave her his hands and she took them, standing up. He gestured to the distance. "Smiling as you watch the theater filling, and there's your billing out there in lights."  
  
He kissed her cheek, grinning and jumping down from the bed. "There's no people like show people, they smile when they are low. Angels come from everywhere with lots of jack, and when you lose it, there's no attack. Where could you get money that you don't give back?" He opened the door and they tangoed down the hall. "Let's go on with the show!"  
  
  
  
  
  
"Here," Harold said, giving her a sheet of paper.  
  
"What's. . . this?" she asked, looking the words over.  
  
"Your contract. Just sign at the bottom line on the fifth page."  
  
She scanned through the first page, squinting her eyebrows in confusion.  
  
Harold was getting nervous. "All it says that you will work here for a minimum of five years."  
  
"Isn't it a waist of paper for all that?" she asked, flipping to the next page.  
  
Harold snatched up the contract from her fingers. "Well I'm sorry, I thought you were interested to be a star." He started to walk away.  
  
"Wait!" Satine said, touching his shoulder and turning him around. "I am serious. . . I want to do this."  
  
Harold flipped to the fifth page, where there was nothing but a thin black line. "Your name, mademoiselle."  
  
She took in a deep breath and took his pen and wrote 'Satine' on the line. Something dropped in her stomach, and she strained to smile at him as he caught her in his arms. "I know you'll love it here. . ."  
  
"Me too," she managed from his tight embrace.  
  
"Come, lets go rehearse with the other girls. . . I shut the Rouge down for a week just for you, pumpkin. To get your routine incorporated."  
  
"How very kind of you," she said as he led her closer to the stage. Her smile was harder to keep as they approached it.  
  
"Oh, and before I forget. . . here." He handed her another piece of paper. "This is the song you'll be singing."  
  
"You got me my song so fast?" taking the paper.  
  
"It was the song our old star sang."  
  
"Who was that?"  
  
"Oh, you probably don't know her yet. . . Nini."  
  
Satine froze in her tracks as they reached the stage. She noticed Nini's icy glare as she stepped onto the oak floor.  
  
"But don't worry, there aren't any hard feelings," Harold said, patting her on the back. "She heard your voice and was more than willing to give you her position."  
  
"How very kind of her," Satine said, moving her eyes from Nini and looked over the words on the paper. She scowled. " 'The best things in life are free, but you can keep them for the birds and bees. Give me money.' Harold. what is this?"  
  
"Your song!"  
  
"But. . . 'give me money'? I thought I was up there to just. . . sing."  
  
"You ARE singing! We just have. . . a reputation to keep."  
  
"But I just. . . I can't. . . What are they gonna do, just throw it on the stage?"  
  
"As you dance across it." He bit his thumb. "Maybe we can incorporate you in the audience. . ."  
  
He scribbled ideas quickly into a notebook as Satine flopped down at the edge of the stage, wondering what she had gotten herself into.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Ok, Satine, sing the song."  
  
Satine folded the paper in her hands. "Harold, I. . ."  
  
"Ah, can princess not do it?" someone said, laughing. Satine glanced back and saw Nini, snickering with a few of her friends.  
  
Harold gave her a look that could kill and she was silent. "Darling. . . you signed the contract." He brought it out from a pocket in his coat. "Article 12 - to summaries, it says that you must do whatever the director, which is me, says. Including. . ." he looked at the paper and read it off, 'songs, choreography, lifestyles, etc.' " He put the paper down. "It ALSO says, that if you don't comply with the contract, the director, which is yet again me, may set punishment accordingly. You signed it. . . now, sing."  
  
Satine was about to scream. He made her sign a contract to those kind of terms?! She took in a deep breath. . . he was right. She had no where else to go. . .  
  
"The best things in life are free, but you can keep them for the birds and bees. Give me money. That's what I want."  
  
Nini and the rest chimed in, their arms across their chests, "That's what I want, yeah."  
  
Satine sighed again. "Your lovin' gives me a thrill, but your lovin' don't pay my bills. Give me money. That's what I want."  
  
"That's what I want, yeah. That's what I want."  
  
"Money don't get everything, its true. But what it don't get I can't use. Give me money. Lots of money!"  
  
She felt hollow as she sang the words that Harold was so excited over. The other dancers shunned her, whispered about her behind their hands, headed by Nini.  
  
'Yes, how kind it was of her to give up her job for me,' Satine thought.  
  
The week went by slowly, working from dawn 'til dusk on the one dance/musical number. Harold said it would be better if she was only in one, to make the men begging for more the next night.  
  
Early on the morning of the performance, she found herself awaken by a greater force and before she realized it, she was standing in the outside garden, and she hugged her thin shawl around her.  
  
"So. . . this is it," she whispered. The snow had melted for the time being, and her feet sank into the frosted ground. She looked at the blackness that surrounded her and tried to smile, but for some reason all that came out were tears. She wiped them away swiftly. "What's wrong with you, Satine?"  
  
She sighed as she sat on the stone bench and rested her chin in her hands. " 'There's no people like show people, they smile when they are low. . .' " she whispered, straining a smile.  
  
All was still around her, all was dark except for the pale shadow of the moon. She looked in to it's round, chubby face and it was easier to keep her smile.  
  
"Lying idle in my room," she sang softly, "telling my thoughts to the moon. Why do I always feel so unimportant? To other egos my mind clings and inside these voices ring that I'm just a carbon copy of everyone else."  
  
She sighed and looked at her feet. Doctor's had checked her over and found no bump, no scratch. . . no accident caused her amnesia. Would she ever know who she was? "And now I'm searching out my own identity. Something down inside telling me that I'm like no one else but me. But as of yet I still don't know who is this girl that I am and for her life what does she have to show?" She lifted her head and looked at the moon once more and whispered, "Who am I? What am I for?"  
  
She was silent for a moment, waiting on it's answer. She laughed and shook her head as the wind blew through her cherry hair. "I wait for answers from the sky, the only audience I find. But no comfort finds my ears, just silent mocking. And I know I was created but I just can't figure out why."  
  
She reached down and picked up a flower, killed by the frost. "Come from dust and return to dust. . ." She threw it down. "I don't want to feel that useless. I want to see something in me that is unique. I just want to know. . ." She rose from the bench, letting her shawl fall to the ground. She reached her hands up, trying to grasp the moon. "Who am I?" she cried.  
  
"You're beautiful," a voice said, softly.  
  
Satine jumped and reached around for her shawl - she was only wearing a thin nightgown - but the person had it in his hands.  
  
She wrapped her arms around her body tightly. "I. . . didn't know anyone was out here."  
  
She saw his face in the moonlight. . . he was handsome. Blonde hair and light skin. He wore a tuxedo with a black tie and white silk gloves stuck out in his pocket. "I was just. . . passing by. . . and I heard the most beautiful voice. . ."  
  
Satine blushed and smiled. "Thank you," she said through chattered teeth.  
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry. . ." he took a few steps closer to her and draped the shawl around her, leaving his hands on her shoulders. She could feel his warm breaths on her face. "Is that better?" he whispered, and she saw that he had green eyes.  
  
"Yes," she said softly, biting her lower lip.  
  
"Would it be bold of me, if I kissed you right now?" he asked.  
  
Satine laughed. "Yes, it would."  
  
"I thought so," he said, dejected, stepping back.  
  
"So what's your name?"  
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry," he ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm afraid I forgot all my manors today. Looking at you just. . . takes my breath away." Satine blushed. "I'm Lord Jerome." Satine looked amazed. He was a lord! "My. . . my father is a Viscount."  
  
Jerome laughed at her shocked expression. "So do you come to the Moulin Rouge often, Mademoiselle. . ."  
  
"Satine," she said, extending her hand to him. "I work here."  
  
The man smiled slightly as he kissed her hand. "So you're the one."  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"The one Zidler shut this place down for. I've heard about you. . . they say you've got the voice and face like an angel. They were right, too. . ."  
  
She felt her cheeks burn. "Perhaps they were. . . I'm performing tonight."  
  
"Tonight?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
He touched her cheek. "I'll be there, I promise. And I always keep my promises."  
  
Satine giggled a bit. "I better go in, they don't know where I am."  
  
"Well, then. . . tonight."  
  
She nodded. "Tonight."  
  
As she turned around, she tried to hide her smile by biting her lip, but it was too late. There was a wide grin on her face and she didn't care if it stayed. There was something about Jerome. . . handsome, sweet Jerome. And rich, too! She'd only met him, but. . .  
  
She laughed to herself. 'No, of course I'm not in love. You can't love someone you just met. . .'  
  
She froze in her tracks, inside the lobby of the Moulin Rouge. "I can't fall in love at all," she said sadly. "Harold would never allow it."  
  
"Did you say my name?"  
  
Satine looked up to see Harold and she looked away.  
  
"No, I didn't," she whispered.  
  
"How is my little star today?" he asked, pinching her cheeks.  
  
She grimaced. "A bit nervous."  
  
"Everyone is their first time." He beamed. "I have a surprise for you. . ."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
He put his arm around her shoulders and led her outside. The sun was quickly rising over the horizon, turning the land outside the gates pink, but for some reason inside the gates of the Moulin Rouge, it still looked dark, so dark. . .  
  
"Do you see that?" he said, pointing to the giant elephant on the lawn.  
  
"Of course I can. Anyone with eyes can see that."  
  
He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "It's yours."  
  
Satine's eyes became wide. "Wh-What? But. . ."  
  
"We've been building a room in there for you while you've been practicing hard." He said, taking her by the hand and leading her to a small door on one of the back legs of the elephant. "I'll think you'll love it, too. . . much better than sharing a room with Marie for the rest of your life."  
  
He led her up the winding stairs and pushed open the golden door, and Satine gasped. "It's. . . beautiful, Harold." She hugged him quickly and wondered around the room. She ran her fingers over the silk sheets of the large red bed and sat down. All around the room were beads, perfumes, painting, sculptures, jewelery. . .  
  
"I love it," she whispered.  
  
"It's fit for a star. . . my star." He walked over and took her hands. "You will be incredible tonight!" He got a far away look in his eyes, and she could almost swear she saw dollar signs in them.  
  
"Well, I should better let you get settled in to your new room." He smiled slightly and left.  
  
Satine flopped onto the bed. Yes, it was beautiful. . . everything was so exotic, expensive, flashy. . . none of it seemed real.  
  
"A chair is still a chair, even when no one is not sitting there," she whispered. "But a chair is not a house. A house is not a home when there's no one there to hold you tight and no one there you can kiss goodnight."  
  
She scoffed angrily at herself and wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. "You idiot. . . why do you care so much about a home? Or love? You have all you need. . . a place to sleep, food to eat, cloths to keep warm. . . why do you want things that are pointless?" she wondered out loud. But she couldn't convince herself, and she climbed under the covers in her bed and slept.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Satine. . . Satine, wake up," Marie's voice called to her.  
  
Satine slowly opened her eyes and moaned. "Mmm, what time is it?"  
  
"Nine. We need to get you ready for tonight."  
  
Her eyes became wide. "Tonight!" She jumped out of bed.  
  
Marie laughed. "You're not that late."  
  
"But. . . it's my big night! I have to be ready!"  
  
"Well, you've been asleep all day. . . have a little something to eat. I brought up something, so sit down."  
  
Satine looked around and found a small table and a golden chair and sat in it, while Marie handed her a small plate of croissants and strawberry jam. "Tea?" she asked.  
  
"Yes, please," she said, buttering her croissant.  
  
"Well, someone must have taught you manors. . ."  
  
Satine smiled sadly. "Someone," she whispered.  
  
Marie poured hot tea into a cup. "You know, even if you don't know your past, it doesn't mean you can't have a future. And I know what Harold said about never falling in love. . ."  
  
"Have you?" Satine asked, lifting her head from her tea cup. "Ever been in love, I mean?"  
  
Marie smiled and sat down on the bed. "Once upon a time."  
  
"What was it like?"  
  
"It was like. . . nothing I ever felt before."  
  
"Who was it? Did he. . . die?"  
  
Marie sighed. "Oh. . . in some ways, yes. But you know him."  
  
Satine thought for a moment, and then set her cup down in surprise. "Harold?!"  
  
Marie nodded. "Yes, Harold Zidler."  
  
"Well. . . what happened?" She took a bite of her croissant.  
  
"Well, I was like you once, if you can believe it. I was the star here when Harold's father owned this place." She closed her eyes. "I fell in love with him at first sight. . . and that was it for me. But. . . then his father died," she opened her eyes again, and they held a hint of sadness, "and Harold took over and he. . . loved something else more."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Money, doll," she whispered. "He fell in love with money and is the person you see today."  
  
"Do you still love him?"  
  
"Yes, but Harold. . . is lost, drowning in some sea of greed somewhere." She closed her eyes again and smiled. "But I still remember the nights he held my hand, and told me I was beautiful. . . and that's the love I'll keep forever." She sighed. "That's all love really is, memories. . . in the present, future, or past."  
  
Satine forced a smile at her through tears. "Marie, I-"  
  
Someone knocked on the door and Harold stepped through the door. "It's time," he said to them, turning to his star. "Are you ready? They're all expecting you."  
  
Satine nodded, taking in a deep breath. "Yes. . . yes," she breathed.  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to me and my good friend Baz. Kinda got the original idea of an angel(mermaid) becoming human from The Little Mermaid.  
  
A/N: Thanks so much everyone for all the help I've been getting on the song idea's. This didn't take too long. Her performance will be later. . .I think there's enough in here to soak up. Hehe, stay tuned my peeps!  
  
Songs used: 'There's no business like show business' by Frank Sinatra, 'Money' by Josie and the Pussycats(sorry, don't know who originally did it), 'Who Am I?' by Craig's Brother, 'A House Is Not A Home' by Michael Ball 


	4. A Legend

Satine patted the large curls Marie twisted into her hair and pinched her cheeks as she had instructed. She instructed her shaky hands to smooth out the folds of her costume as she had done countless times already.  
  
They had practiced all every day for a week at this. She had it chiseled into the back of her mind, and yet. . . she was so nervous. She took a deep breath and thought of the other night on the stage, when she sang in front of the audience. They were so. . . captivated. It was like they were afraid to breathe.  
  
And then, slowly, she saw the face of a young man. Although it was dark and the face was shadowed, she saw every inch of his body in a smile - she caught a warm sparkle in his gentle blue eyes, his hands extended to her in a loving embrace. . . everything about him was comforting.  
  
"Love," he whispered softly, "lifts us up to where we belong."  
  
"Love?" she asked, trying to make it sound like a disgusting word, but it only made her smile, like him.  
  
"Did you say something?"  
  
Satine whirled around, startled, and saw Harold Zidler. She glanced back into the shadows. . . but the man was gone. But she could still make out in the darkness his soft blue eyes. The way he spoke. . . a spark started off in her mind. She had heard those words before, somewhere. . .  
  
No, it's impossible. He spoke of love, and love was forbidden. Love was pointless, unimportant. . . a useless dream.  
  
But for the life of her, she couldn't help to smile at his words. They were like a blazing fire in the midst of a freezing winter.  
  
"You're on soon, my little chickpea," he whispered. "Do Daddy proud."  
  
Satine nodded and leaned against the wall, listening to 'The Diamond Dog's' number.  
  
"Lovely ladies, waiting for a bite," they sang. "Waiting for the customers who only comes at night. Lovely ladies, waiting for the call. Standing up or lying down or any way at all. Bargain prices up against the wall."  
  
They danced around a little bit, the men cheering. "Lovely ladies, waiting in the dark. Ready for a thick one or a quick one in the park. Long time, short time, any time, my dear. Cost a little extra if you want to take all year! Quick and cheap is underneath the pier!"  
  
The lights shut off and the band ceased entirely. The men all around the room murmered 'What's going on' as a single white light slowly lit the stage, stood Satine, wearing a black corset and matching gloves, with a dark glittery hat pulled over her eyes.  
  
"Because. . ." she whispered, the room becoming entirely quiet except for the sound of wispy breaths. She took her index finger and pushed her hat up, looking into their eyes and winked. "What's love got to do with it?"  
  
In another moment the lights came on again, full force, and the band struck up a few blasting notes, echoing the loud whistles and cheers of the audience.  
  
"The best things in life are free!" She yelled, high kicking. "But you can keep them for the birds and bees. Give me money." She curled her fingers toward her, inviting them. "That's what I want."  
  
"That's what I want, yeah," Nini and the rest of the girls chimed in at the sides of the stage. They touched their faces and lifted up the skirts of their dresses.  
  
Satine lay down on the stage, raising her hands above her head. "Your lovin' gives me a thrill," she sang sweetly, but then a trumpet struck a high note and she sat up. "But your lovin' don't pay my bills. Give me money. That's what I want."  
  
"That's what I want, yeah," the other dancers said. "That's what I want."  
  
"Money don't get everything, its true. But what it don't get I can't use." She threw her hat out into the audience and a group of them fought over who caught it. "Give me money! Lots of money!"  
  
Satine smiled as a large wad of $20's landed on the stage.  
  
"Thats what I waaaaaaaaant, yeah. That's what I want."  
  
"Give me money. . . Lots of money!" She reached her hand down and two men eagerly helped her down from the stage and she wondered through the crowd. "A whole lotta money. . . Just give me some money! That's what I want. . . That's what I want. Give me money. Lots of money. Just give me money. A whole lot of money. That's what I want, yeah."  
  
The band stopped for a second as Satine crawled on top of the small bar and smiled. "That's what I want."  
  
And the lights shut off again, and when they dimmed on, she had disappeared.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Satine heaved in a breath as Marie helped her get out of her costume.  
  
"You were wonderful tonight," the older woman said, smiling. "You reminded me of myself a long time ago, seeing you up there."  
  
Satine laughed. "I was so nervous. . ."  
  
"It didn't show."  
  
Satine grabbed Marie's hand as she began to lace a red dress onto her. "Being on that stage with all those people. . ." she shook her head, laughing, turning to her. "I loved it."  
  
Marie, with sad eyes, nodded. "I know, dear."  
  
Satine smiled as she faced the mirror. "Hi-diddle-dee-dee. . ." she whispered, "an actor's life for me."  
  
Marie frowned as she watched Satine's young, innocent happy face. It was just like hers, so long ago. . . before she learned about what the Rouge was about and fell in love.  
  
Harold burst through the door, his arms spread open. "Cherub!" he yelled cheerfully. "You were SPLENDID! Wasn't she, Marie?"  
  
Marie nodded, forcing a smile. "She's a natural, alright."  
  
A stagehand knocked apprehensively on the open door. "Miss. . . Satine?"  
  
Satine smiled. "Yes?" She froze when she saw what he had in his hands - his arms were full of nearly two dozen white roses.  
  
Her jaw dropped. "They're. . . they're beautiful!" she said, touching her hand to her heart. "Thank you. . . so much."  
  
The man blushed as he set them on the counter and took off his hat and wiped the sweat from the stage lights. "Ah, no ma'am. Someone asked me to give these to ya."  
  
"Well. . . thank you just the same."  
  
He nodded, and with a stern look from Zidler, left.  
  
"Who are they from?" Harold asked.  
  
Satine shrugged her shoulders and reached inside the bouquet and picked up a card. " 'You were even better than they said - You were an angel. Love, Jerome'."  
  
Zidler's brows pinched together. "Jerome? Who's he?"  
  
"LORD Jerome," Satine said, smiling brightly and blushing. "His father's rich. . . he's a viscount."  
  
Zidler's eyes became wide. "Jerome, huh? I haven't seen him for a while now. . . Yes, his family is extremely rich."  
  
"Is he?"  
  
"Why don't. . ." He tapped the tips of his fingers together. "Why don't you ask your friend to come over and play soon, hmm?"  
  
Satine shrugged, turning the card over. "It says he wants to meet tomorrow. . . oh, but I have rehearsal." She sighed. "I'll just tell him I can't-"  
  
"No!" Harold shouted, startling her. "No, I mean. . . you've been working so hard all week. . . have a day off."  
  
She smiled. "Well, thank you. Thank you so much."  
  
Marie stood in the corner, shaking her head, knowing Zidler was up to no good.  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to me and my good friend Baz. Kinda got the original idea of an angel(mermaid) becoming human from The Little Mermaid.  
  
A/N: Wow. this took me SUCH a long time. I don't know if it was writers block or I was just so busy. . . I think it was all. Thanks for being patient, everyone. I hope you enjoyed this!  
  
Songs used: 'Lovely Ladies' from Les Miserables, 'Money' by Josie and the Pussycats, 'Hi-diddle-dee-dee' from Pinocchio 


	5. First Date

Satine slowly opened her eyes, and once her vision adjusted to the light, she saw two dozen white roses on the nightstand. She smiled, remembering Jerome, and leaned over to smell one.  
  
She giggled as she rolled onto her back.  
  
Zidler had promised her a day off with him today, and thought of nothing else since then. She had dreamed of it last night - they were two seats in the audience, and they were surrounded by rose petals and candles. On the stage was a beautiful play, called 'Spectacular! Spectacular!' about a courtesan who looked surprisingly like her, and who was to marry an evil maharaja, played by a snively, pale actor. But the courtesan fell in love with a sitar player, who was more beautiful than anyone she had ever seen before.  
  
His voice. . . She closed her eyes and could imagine the shivers she got, even in her dreams, because of his voice.  
  
It was a beautiful play. . . a beautiful day with her and Jerome.  
  
"Maybe he will be my sitar player," she whispered, rolling out of bed and getting ready for the day.  
  
After a few frustrating minutes of trying to put a corset on, Marie came in with a tray of fruit and croissants.  
  
"Oh, yum!" Satine said, picking up a strawberry.  
  
Marie smiled and started to tighten Satine's corset.  
  
"Do you know what you're doing today?" she asked.  
  
Satine shook her head. "Jerome said it was a surprise. . . he's going to pick me up in his carriage." She sighed. "I don't know what to do, Marie. I've never-" She stopped herself and wiped the crumbs off the corner of her mouth. "I don't remember even being on a date. I don't know if I've ever had a beau."  
  
Marie paused a moment with the strings in her wrinkly hands. She knew what Harold and Jerome had in store for her.  
  
She desperately wanted to save her from the life she had forced on her, but Harold would have her thrown in the streets for sabotaging his plan. How the man she had loved so dearly changed. . .  
  
"Do you really like him?" Marie asked calmly, tightening her corset again.  
  
Satine smiled. "I do."  
  
"Just. . . be careful." Marie picked her words carefully. "Not everyone in this world is good."  
  
"But Jerome is! I know it!" Satine looked back and smiled at her. "I know he is."  
  
Marie nodded her heavy head, but never for a moment believed Jerome, the son of a Viscount or not, was a good person.  
  
  
  
  
  
As 11:00 ticked by, a carriage pulled up to the Moulin Rouge, and out stepped a handsome man in a fresh-pressed suit with blond hair under a black top hat. In his hand he held a gold tipped cane and struck it into the frozen ground as he strolled up the walkway and into the night club.  
  
Zidler met him by the door, shook his hand and spoke a few words. Jerome handed him an envelope and smiled, tipping his hat and walking toward the elephant.  
  
Satine peaked, nervously, over the side of her large animal room and gasped when she saw him coming toward her. She ducked her head, careful for him not to see her, and ran as fast as she could in heels down the stairs and jumped into a chair as someone knocked on the door.  
  
Satine took a couple deep breaths before she asked, feathery, "Who is it?"  
  
"Jerome, my angel."  
  
Satine blushed and smiled. She smoothed out her cream-colored dress and opened the door. "Hello," she whispered.  
  
He took a minute and studied her from toes on up, and finally reached her eyes. "Hello," he whispered back. "As always, you look lovely." She blushed. "I have a fantastic day planned for us." He offered her his arm. "Shall we?"  
  
She slid her hand into the crook of his arm and they walked down the small staircase and out into the open air. Satine felt the wind chill her bones and she held on tighter to Jerome, letting her head rest against his shoulder.  
  
Jerome smiled and removed her hand from his arm and draped it around her, looking deeply into her heavenly blue eyes, and kissed her, deeply.  
  
  
  
  
  
They went on a carriage ride around Paris, taking in the sights. He took her to see the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, and they stopped off at the Paris Opera House.  
  
Satine's excitement was overflowing. Maybe her dream of the play would come true. . .  
  
"What's playing?" she asked, smiling.  
  
"La Traviata - an opera based on the book 'Camille' by Alexandre Dumas. Have you read anything by him?"  
  
"I don't think so," she said quietly.  
  
"Well, he's a famous French author."  
  
He offered his arm to her again as they stepped out of the carriage, and she giggled, taking it, remembering what happened when last he did that.  
  
Jerome owned a box, right above the stage - really the best in the house. A few minutes after taking their seats, the curtain rose, and Satine smiled with enjoyment.  
  
As the opera progressed on, Satine forgot Jerome sat next to her. She leaned forward in her seat, away from his draping arm, and stared openly at the stage. Finally, in the last scene, when the man held his dead lover in his arms, she found that her chin was quivering and tears were falling down her cheeks.  
  
No one thought anything of Violetta Valéry. She was just a kept woman, a courtesan, a whore. Her life was so empty, so without meaning until Alfredo Germont entered her life and dared to love her.  
  
The curtain fell and Satine wiped away her tears with her fingers and began to clap loudly.  
  
Jerome's hand on her shoulder startled her. "Are you alright?" he asked.  
  
She nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine." She smiled at him. "It was so beautiful. . . thank you so much for taking me."  
  
He brought his hand to her eyes and took away her tears. "Thank you so much for accompanying me," he whispered.  
  
She blushed as she looked away from his dark green eyes. "It's getting late. . . I should be getting home soon."  
  
He nodded, standing. "Of course. Come, my angel."  
  
  
  
  
  
The carriage ride home was quiet. Jerome has his arm around her and his body was turned in her direction. Satine looked down at her lacy gloves and felt the heat rise in her face.  
  
"Did you really like the play tonight?" he whispered.  
  
"I did."  
  
"They fell in love at first sight. . . do you think that can happen everyday?"  
  
Satine tilted her face up to meet his eyes for a moment, then looked back down at her gloves. "I suppose it can."  
  
"Has it happened to you?"  
  
She shrugged. "I don't know."  
  
The carriage stopped and Jerome sighed, opening the door and getting out. He extended his hand to her, and together, they walked to her 'home'.  
  
Satine felt a tight pain in her chest, as if someone stabbing her in heart, and couldn't walk further. She grimaced at the pain and started to shake. She coughed once, twice. . . it tore at her throat and she leaned against Jerome for support.  
  
He held her steady. "Satine? Satine, are you alright?"  
  
After a few moments, she removed her hand from her mouth and nodded. "Yes. . . yes I'm alright."  
  
"You must be sick," he said, opening the door to the elephant and walking up with her. He laid her on her bed gently.  
  
"I'm fine, rea-" she started, but he silenced her.  
  
"I kept you out in the cold air, it's my fault." He bit his lip in frustration. "I'll send some one to look after you when I go. I'll come see you again, soon, as well. Are you performing tomorrow?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
He kissed her brow softly. "I'll be there, my angel."  
  
She smiled as he slipped out the door.  
  
She rose from the bed and went to the mirror. The wind had blown her hair, and she frowned at how messy she looked and began to straighten it.  
  
When she put her hand into her thick waves, she realized something was wet and moved her hand in front of her face. Something thick and red sat on her palm and she turned pale, touching it with her other hand.  
  
She reached for her handkerchief and rubbed it away, and threw the handkerchief to the floor. She watched it in slow motion as it fell down, down. . .  
  
Harold burst through the door. "Pigeon!" he yelled, extending his arms to her. "How was your day off? He told me you felt sick."  
  
"I was bleeding. . ." she whispered, pointing to the handkerchief.  
  
"Yes, yes. . . that's normal." He smiled and tapped her chin. "No children!"  
  
She looked at him questionably as Marie came in behind Harold and helped Satine change out of her dress and into a nightgown.  
  
"Get some sleep now, love," Marie said gently, kissing her cheek and pulling down the covers.  
  
Satine, on shaky legs, walked to her bed and flopped down onto the covers. She felt a chill through her whole body and shivered, hugging the blankets to her tightly.  
  
"Good night, love," Marie said, blowing out the lamp and pushing Harold out the door.  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to me and my good friend Baz. Kinda got the original idea of an angel(mermaid) becoming human from The Little Mermaid.  
  
A/N: Sorry I didn't describe the play too much. You'll just have to read Camille - it's SOO good! And sorry for such the delay. School projects and studying for exams take up most my time, but I finally got to do what I love the best!  
  
Songs used: -none- hmm, strange for me. 


	6. The Truth

Satine sat in her dressing room, a loose silk robe around her body. Her mouth ached after belting out her song tonight. That, plus a smile was plastered to her face when she saw that Jerome sent her flowers again. . .  
  
She rose the card to her eyes for the thousandth time and read. 'My angel, never before had I seen anything as beautiful as you. I think I'm very much falling in love. Jerome.'  
  
In her head, she kept rereading the last sentence. 'I think I'm very much falling in love.'  
  
"Falling in love," she sighed. Butterflies beat in her stomach and she felt her entire body become warm. She sighed again. "I think I'm very much falling in love as well."  
  
She pushed away from the dressing room counter and stood. "So this is love, Mmmmmm. So this is love. So this is what makes life divine."  
  
She picked up a white rose and pressed it to her nose, drinking in the sweet smell. "And now I know. . . the key to all heaven is mine. My heart has wings and I can fly!" She spread her arms out and closed her eyes. "I'll touch ev'ry star in the sky!"  
  
She looked in the mirror and saw her beaming face. Weeks ago. . . she didn't know who she was. Who knows what her life was like before. Happy. . . unhappy? Loved. . . unloved?  
  
She was happy with Jerome. He took her to plays and held her hand. . . she was happy.  
  
While looking into the mirror, her smile began to fade away for some reason. "So this is the miracle that I've been dreaming of," she whispered. "So this is love."  
  
She sat back down slowly and poured herself a glass of champagne and closed her eys as she let the cold liquor trickle down her throat. She noticed a drop stayed on her lip and licked it away, still tasting the coppery blood. . .  
  
She set her glass down on the vanity, forcing a smile at the mirror. It was nothing. . . nothing. Harold said it was normal. Nothing was wrong.  
  
"Silly girl," she said, giggling at herself for even worrying for a moment.  
That night when Satine returned to The Elephant, she was surprised to see her room lit by dozens of candles, and Jerome, standing in the middle with a rose twirling around his fingers.  
  
She smiled. "Jerome! I-"  
  
"Are you better?" he asked, hurriedly.  
  
Satine steadied herself for a moment, repeating in her head that her coughing fit the other night was nothing. "Yes, I'm feeling much better, thank you."  
  
"Well then. . . I talked to Monsieur Zidler. He arranged for the candles and wine."  
  
"What's the occasion?"  
  
He walked to her slowly, letting the flower fall to the floor. "Us."  
  
Jerome placed his hands on her hips and pulled her toward him, kissing her passionately. He pulled her over toward the direction of the bed and they made love in the candlelight.  
Satine woke the next morning slowly, smiling. She had the best night of her life. . . she really was in love with Jerome, and he was in love with her.  
  
She rolled over in the bed and felt around for Jerome, but felt only a cold spot. She opened her eyes and bolted straight up, but he was no where to be found.  
  
"That's strange," she whispered. "Maybe. . . I dreamed it after all."  
  
She glanced around the bed and saw her dress and corset sprawled across the floor in a heap along with a single white rose. A black bow tie hung over the edge of a chair.  
  
No, Jerome had been here. . . but where was he now?  
  
Satine wrapped the satin sheets around her naked body and shuffled to the night stand. Maybe he had left a note. . .  
  
She sighed with relief when she noticed a white envelope with an attached note. Opening it, she read: My darling, I had a wonderful time last night. Sorry I had to go so soon, but I was called back on business. You can be sure of me calling on you as soon as I can get back in France. Jerome.  
  
Funny. . . he sounded so serious. How unlike him. She shrugged. He probably had to leave soon and had only little time to write.  
  
Next, she tore open the envelope, and with eyebrows pinched together, pulled out a large wad of money, similar to the kind that flew upon the stage as she danced. Why did he leave her money on the nightstand?  
  
"May I come in?" Harold asked, opening the door without waiting for a reply. He smiled widely when he saw her in her sheet, holding the bills in her hand. "How much?"  
  
"What?" she asked.  
  
"How much did he leave you?"  
  
"I. . . I don't know," she whispered. "Did he see you? Did he tell you where he was off to so suddenly this morning?"  
  
Harold nodded, taking the envelope and flipping through the bills.  
  
"Where did he go?" she asked.  
  
He whistled, satisfied. "He must have really had a good time. . ."  
  
"Where did he go?" she asked again, sternly.  
  
He slowly dragged his eyes away from the money and looked at her. "Home. He told me he wasn't to stay long. . . wanted a night with you before he went back to his wife and-"  
  
Satine felt the blood drain from her face and her knees buckled under her.  
  
Harold rushed to her side. "Duckling. . . what's wrong."  
  
Tears came to Satine's eyes as she pushed herself up to sit. "He's m. . . marr-"  
  
"Oh yes. I wasn't supposed to tell you that. But I don't suppose it makes any difference, does it?"  
  
Satine dropped her head back and felt the ache of her trembling chin. Married. . . Jerome was married. . . Jerome had a wife. . .  
  
So what would that make her?  
  
"Oh, God!" she screamed, falling to the floor again.  
  
"Oh, don't bring Him into this," Harold said sternly, steadying her again. "He hasn't been around this underworld in quite some time."  
  
"I'm a whore," she cried.  
  
"Why, what else would you be?"  
  
"He was married and I slept with him. . . oh, God!" She sobbed into her hands.  
  
Harold put his finger under her chin and made her look into her eyes. "Pigeon, I thought you knew all this. . . it's just as you're song goes."  
  
She looked at him, confused.  
  
"The best things in life are free, doll," he said softly. "But you can keep them for the birds and bees. . ."  
  
"Give me money," she whispered.  
  
"You're the best I've got. . . I need you," he said sternly. "I thought you knew what went on here. . . I thought you understood."  
  
"I loved him, Harold," she whispered. "I loved him. . . and he's married to another! Oh, God!"  
  
If there was any kindness in him, he quickly shoved it aside. He brought his hand up to her cheek, striking her.  
  
Satine sat, dazed, staring into his eyes with hurt confusion.  
  
"The quickest way to break your heart, make you depressed and ill is to get tangled up inside," he yelled, pointed his finger at her. "As soon as your heart rules your head, your life is not your own. It's hell when someone's always there, it's bliss to be alone! And love of any kind is bad. DON'T fall in love!"  
  
He took a deep breath. "That's my only rule here. . . you want to break it, you find somewhere else to live."  
  
Rising from the floor, he slammed the door on his way out.  
  
Satine felt the tears sting on her cheek and her eyes raw. Never in her life had she ever felt so. . . low. So. . . hurt. Was Harold right. . . was love just a waste of time?  
  
Oh, but if Jerome wasn't married. . . how would it have been if he were just as she wished him to be, as in love with her as she was with him.  
  
She pushed the tears away from her eyes and glanced at the vase of flowers lying on a shelf by the door. How happy she had been to get them. . . how beautiful they had been then. But now they were cracked and brown.  
  
"The flowers you gave me are just about to die," she sang. "When I think about what could've been. . . makes me want to cry." She laughed at herself when she realized she already was, and rose to the mirror.  
  
She was a mess - hair tousled, face and lips pale. She remembered looking into the mirror just as she left for the Elephant last night. She felt she could jump in her skin all the way around the world and still have strength to go around again.  
  
Why? Why did this have to happen at all. He was so beautiful. . . he said such beautiful words and made her feel like she knew who she was with him. "The sweet words you whispered didn't mean a thing," she sang bitterly. "I guess our song is over as we begin to sing. Could've been so beautiful. Could've been so right. Could've been my lover every day of my life. Could've been so beautiful. Could've been so right. I'll never hold what could've been on a cold and lonely night."  
  
She had imagine her life a dozen times with Jerome. . . how he'd take her far from this life and they'd live happily ever after. What went wrong?  
  
"How did I come to this? How did I slip and fall? How did I throw half a lifetime away without any thought at all?"  
  
She felt the tears fall again when she imagined the words they had shared, the bed they had shared. "This should have been my time. It's over," she shook her head, "it never began. I closed my eyes to so much for so long and I no longer can."  
  
The signs were there. . . she was just too stupid and naive to notice them. Oh, how he must be laughing at her now.  
  
But maybe it was her fault. "I try to blame it on fortune. Some kind of shift in a star." No matter how she looked at it, it was a mistake. He was married. . . she had slept with a married man. "But I know the truth and it haunts me. It's flown. . . just a little too far. I know the truth and it mocks me. I know the truth and it shocks me. It's flown just a little too far."  
  
She still remembered the way his hand grazed her skin, or how his lips tasted. She remembered the way he held her hand as he led her out of the carriage to the play. She remembered his arm around her waist.  
  
She scoffed. What was wrong with her? "Why do I want him still? Why when there's nothing there? How to go on with the rest of my life, to pretend I don't care. This should've been my time. It's over - it never began. I closed my eyes to so much for so long and I no longer can. I try to blame it on fortune. Some kind of twist in my fate. But I know the truth and it haunts me. I learned it a little too late. Oh, I know the truth and it mocks me. I know the truth and it shocks me."  
  
She sighed as she sat down at her vanity. "I learned it. . .a little too late." She had become a whore overnight just because of a few soft words and a warm embrace.  
  
The truth was just a few steps around the corner, but she learned it too late. "Too late."  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to me and my good friend Baz. Kinda got the original idea of an angel(mermaid) becoming human from The Little Mermaid.  
  
A/N: WOAH! Haven't added anything for a while. . . I hate it when your muse simply leaves you without any instructions in the mean time. Ok, but I have this up, and I hope so much that you enjoyed it. . . now this stuff is out of the way, make way for the really juicy stuff to come!  
  
Songs used: 'So this is love' by ?, 'Don't Fall In Love' from Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas, 'Could've Been' by ?, 'I Know The Truth' from Aida 


	7. Diamonds

The performers behind stage rushed around, tying their corsets and shoes. Satine subconsciously watched them, her eyes staring sadly at a corner of the mirror. She barely felt Marie's fingers touch her face, applying makeup to her face as a dark-haired woman curled her hair. She barely heard their conversations of "oh, how well you will do tonight!"  
  
Instead, Satine felt Jerome's green eyes stare and he whispered to her, "I think I'm very much falling in love," while he held his blond haired wife and matching children in his arms.  
  
Her hand on the counter gripped the cold diamond sent from him. Zidler danced in with it, beaming brightly, so proud his star had sold herself for such a good profit. Along with it was the note: 'how I can't wait to see you again'. All Satine wanted to do with it was to crash it into the mirror.  
  
She saw Nini smirking from the doorway and quickly put on a distressed face. "Marie, Georgette, please help! A few of the girls went out for a smoke and it started to rain and their makeup and their hair is all over! Please, the stage manager is going frantic - we're going to start soon!"  
  
"What?!" Marie's assistant cried, Georgette, cried.  
  
"Please, I'll finish getting Satine ready. . . please go help them!"  
  
Georgette quickly ran in the direction Nini pointed, while Marie, her eyes flashing, slowly followed.  
  
Nini's frightful face faded away to that of smugness as she shut the door. Satine glared at her through the mirror.  
  
Being true to her word, Nini started to curl Satine's hair.  
  
"It's not raining," Satine said, "is it?"  
  
Nini shrugged. "It could be."  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"Oh, nothing. Nothing. I don't want our little star not to be perfect tonight, that's all. Oh, and I just heard the strangest news. Supposedly, you lost something last night to a Lord for QUITE a lot of money. How much was it, exactly?"  
  
Satine inhaled a deep breath as she raised her eyes, willing herself not to cry.  
  
"Oh, don't be like that. We've all slept with Jerome at least once. . . hell, I've done it so many times I can't remember."  
  
Satine stared at her a moment, then whispered, "What?"  
  
"Don't think you're the only one. He must really like you, though. Sending flowers, diamonds. . . you're one of his favorites now I'm guessing."  
  
"Stop it," she whispered, barely audible.  
  
"The best things in life are free," Nini whispered in her ear. "But you can keep them for the birds and bees. Give me money."  
  
"Get out."  
  
"Isn't that what you want, though? He listened to your every word and gave you what you wanted. Because. . ." she winked at her and did one of the dance moves from Satine's number. "What's love got to do with it?" she sang.  
  
"Get out of here!" Satine yelled now.  
  
Nini cleared her throat and began practicing her song, slowly leaving. "Lovely lady! What yer waiting for? Doesn't take a lot of savvy just to be a whore! Come on, laddie, what's a lady for?"  
  
When she had left, Satine's breathing came out in ragged breaths and tears bordered her eyes.  
  
She hadn't been the only one? How many others had he sent flowers to with notes of 'I think I'm very much falling in love'? How many others had he kissed in the garden? How many other had he gone to bed with?  
  
She clutched her hand to her chest as a deep, burning pain slashed through her heart, and she felt a cough creaping through her body, shaking her bones. Hastily she pressed a handkerchief to her lips as her body began to sink toward the floor.  
  
When the coughing had subsided, she felt her throat raw and dry, and her lips wet. She wiped it away with the hankie and when she pulled it away, it was stained with blood. Her eyes widened as she stared at it. Gripping onto the counter, she rose to her feet and glanced into the mirror.  
  
Across her lip and over her cheek was smeared in blood, and the glisten of a tear in her eyes grew and fell down her cheek, mixing with the blood and making it run down her face.  
  
"There's nothing to worry about," she whispered to herself, touching with her fingers where the blood and tears met. "It's natural. . ."  
  
As she scrubbed her face harshly with a rough towel, she thought 'and so is death. . .'  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Satine stood behind the curtain, staring at the ground. She felt the tears sting and all the energy zapped from her body. To go out on that stage was too much, to sing of love in exchange for money was impossible.  
  
She leaned against the wall, completely drained, listening to 'The Diamond Dog's' number, their words stabbing at her with a sharp knife. The pain in her chest was slowly coming back as she listened to them.  
  
"Old men, young men, take 'em as they come. Harbor rats and alley cats and every type of scum. Poor men, rich men, leaders of the land. See them with their trousers off they're never quite as grand. All it takes is money in your hand!"  
  
The band began to slow down as the performers shrank to the corners and the lights began to dim. The audience began to go crazy - whooping, hollering, screaming - knowing what was coming next. "Lovely ladies, going for a song," they drawled. "Got a lot of callers but they never stay. . . for. . . long. . ."  
  
The entire ballroom was completely dark. This was her cue to slip past the curtain, but her body didn't move. Behind her, Satine heard hisses of "You're on!" "Get out there!" and was pushed out onto the hardwood polished floor.  
  
A spotlight cracked on and she blinked away from it, more tears forming in her eyes. She looked form left to right, scanning the audience with a somber expression. Everything suddenly got quiet and she breathed deeply.  
  
From behind the wing, Zidler made a hissing noise and made a few gestures. There was a red color in his face, becoming brighter and brighter with each second.  
  
Satine looked back toward the audience. How many Jerome's were there out there, she wondered, married and with children, just waiting to bed her - or anyone for that matter. Jerome. . .  
  
She sharply inhaled a deep breath and crumpled to the floor, her top hat falling from her head. Red curls cascaded over her shoulders and hid the tears streaking down her face.  
  
Looking down at the stage she heard them murmured and whispered to each other. She picked up one: "Is this a new act?"  
  
She started to lift her head, but then thought better of it. No, why should she let them see her cry? Why should she let them see that one of them had won over her?  
  
She closed her eyes and whispered to herself the words Harold had told her the day he told her she'd be a star. "There's no people like show people, they smile when they are low. Angels come from everywhere with lots of jack, and when you lose it, there's no attack. Where could you get money that you don't give back? Let's go on with the show!"  
  
She took a deep breath and brushed the tears away. She wasn't a silly girl. . . no, she was an actress. . . no, not an actress. . . she was a star. THE star of the Moulin Rouge.  
  
She stretched her neck and looked out at the audience, sitting on her knees, and flashed them a huge smile.  
  
"Life down here's been hard for you," she spoke to them. "But life has made you strong. Let me lift the mood with my attitude."  
  
She stood slowly and stretched her arms out to them. She painted the fake smile on her ruby lips even more when she felt the glisten of tears on her cheek. "Hey fellas, the time is right. Get ready 'cause tonight's. . ." she winked on eye, "the. . ." she winked the other eye "night!" She blew them all a kiss.  
  
"Boys," she purred, "what you're hopin' for will come true." She went on her knees and beckoned to them, crooking her finger. "Let me be good to you, you tough guys. You're feelin' all alone, you rough guys. The best o' you sailors and bums, all of my chums. So dream on and drink your beer. Get cosy, your baby's here." She slapped a hand on her thigh and felt inside her spirit fall further and further into the depths of the darkness encircling the bright spotlight.  
  
The audience started up their cheers again as she traveled around them. "You won't be misunderstood, let me be good to you." She smoothed back the hair of a young rake. "Hey fella, I'll take off all my. . ." she laughed as she danced away from him and yelled out, "blues! Hey fellas, there's nothin' I won't do just for you. So dream on and drink your beer. Get cosy," She sat across from a man with a frosted mug in his hand and rested her chin on her hands, winking at him, "your baby's here."  
  
She pushed the chair away. "Hey boys, I'm talkin' to you!" She climbed onto her swing in the corner. Stage hands from behind pulled her up and she hovered over them. She looked down at them for a while, not saying a word, just watching their gaping faces.  
  
She crossed her legs, showing them some skin from the large slit by her thigh. "Your baby'y gonna come through," she whispered, and then her voice rose as the lights began to dim. "Let me be good to you!"  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Satine forced a smile at her mirror that night, wiping away her lipstick. "They loved you out there tonight," she whispered to herself. "The audience loves you. . . you're a star."  
  
She laughed at her pathetic attempt to raise her spirits. No matter how great the stage was, it couldn't swallow up her misery.  
  
"You told me you loved me. . . you told me you cared." It was all lies, all meaningless. What was love anyway? Just a swirl of confusing, mixed up emotions. Yes, that was all. It WAS all meaningless. Love never lasts forever.  
  
She fingered the diamond necklace around her throat and glanced at it in the mirror. How many meals would this necklace alone give her? How many nights would she get shelter for this? Diamonds. . . yes, those were forever. Those were companions to everyone.  
  
"Don't you know, diamonds are a girls' best friend. When you go, they stay with me until the end," she sang, louder this time. "Don't you know, diamonds are a girls' best friend. When you go, they stay with me until the end."  
  
She started to wheeze as a cough crept up her throat. She clutched the necklace. The cold stones gave her a sense of freedom, a boundless adventure and she smiled through her pain. "Diamonds. . ." she laughed hauntingly.  
  
"My dear, what was that tonight?" Zidler burst through the door. "First you were crying, then you were on the ground. . . and then that song! What was that song?"  
  
"Just. . . something I made up on the spot."  
  
"Well, the men loved it."  
  
"I'm glad they did."  
  
"Did Jerome tell you the next time he was coming to Paris, duckling?" he asked, beaming.  
  
Satine looked at him in the mirror with downcast eyes. "I refuse to see Jerome again," she whispered.  
  
"Now, listen to me." Zidler's face hardened as he grabbed the arms of her chair and looked at her square in her eyes. "You signed my contract, so you listen to me. I tell what to where, what to do, and who to do as well. You hear me."  
  
"I refuse to see Jerome again," she said again, gritting her teeth.  
  
"Because he's married, is that it?!" he demanded. "You found out his dirty little secret and don't like it, is that it?!" She tried to look away but he held her chin roughly. "He has money. . . and that's what makes the world go round. You WILL see him again."  
  
Satine stared into his eyes for a long time, the icy silence creeping over the room like a winter storm. She shivered in her robe as she took a deep breath. "I'll see anyone you want. Any time of day, rain or shine, Harold."  
  
He smiled brightly and patted her cheek. "There's my girl."  
  
"-as long as it's not Jerome. That's my deal."  
  
Harold thought for a moment with a thoughtful hand on the side of his face. "Anyone I decide? No matter. . . what?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Will you promise, upon your life, in turn to never fall in love."  
  
She cocked a smile and sang, "What's love got to do with it? All I want is money, remember?"  
  
He smiled. "There's my little chickpea." He patted the top of her head. "Lord Jerome will be notified he can't come here anymore. Would that make my little star happy?"  
  
She didn't say a word, but turned back to the mirror to admire the diamonds across her neck.  
  
"We need a new name for you. We can't simply call you 'Satine'. We need something new. . . something fresh. Something that screams 'star'!" He hummed to himself as he paced the room, thinking.  
  
She ran her fingers over each and every crystal on her necklace. "How about. . . the Sparkling Diamond."  
  
He snapped his fingers. "Excellent! Wonderful! Stupendous! Now we need a new song. . . something new. . . something fresh. . ."  
  
"Diamonds. . . are a girl's best friend," she whispered.  
  
"Excellent! Wonderful! I'll get someone to write it up right away!"  
  
He smiled at her in the mirror. "Now, goodnight my Sparkling Diamond. . . have a good sleep."  
  
She sighed as he left. What was love anyway? Never again would she feel so foolish and vulnerable. Never would love enter her life. Never.  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to me and my good friend Baz. Kinda got the original idea of an angel(mermaid) becoming human from The Little Mermaid.  
  
A/N: SOOO sorry for such the long wait! I had most of this done but it too so long to find a song for her to sing on the stage. And then I went on vacation (to Florida and I met the Little Mermaid!!!!) and you know how it is. Um, for some reason I can't make spaces in the text, so I have ~~~ up. I hope this turned out well!  
  
Songs used: 'Let Me be Good to You' from the Great Mouse Detective (Wow, I never knew Disney movies to be so dirty. . .), 'Diamonds' by Janet Jackson 


	8. The Forbidden

Months melded into each other, and not before too long, Satine saw another winter and 1897 retired into the darkness. As 1898 reared it's head, she looked into it's eyes coldly with an empty heart.  
  
She was given a new act at the Rouge along with a new costume strung fully with diamonds. The first night she appeared with it, out of the high domed ceiling, the men whooped and hollered, but all she remembered was a tear in her eye and a smile painted on her lips, whispering "Diamonds are a girl's best friend."  
  
And she saw men. Lots of men. Harold held her true to her word 'I'll see anyone you want. . . never fall in love.'  
  
She gazed out the heart-shaped window of her room onto the street further down. Venders peddled, painters painted, musicians sang their songs, drunks gulped from large bottles. They looked so. . . peaceful and free. She rubbed at her wrists at her invisible shackles and sighed. Oh, what would it be like to be out there on the streets. . .  
  
She sighed, watching a young painter. He was short, and by the way he walked, was crippled. He hugged an empty canvas that was as long as his body to his chest and a green bottle of some drink, struggling with his items in the door of Hotel Blanche across the street.  
  
She watched him everyday since she saw him with his paintbrush in the Rouge one day. His name was Toulouse Lautrec - a bohemian.  
  
"Truth." She spouted off their ideals frequently. "Beauty. Freedom. . ."  
  
She couldn't bring herself to say the last one - love. For nearly a year it was a curse word, and it was one she promised herself never to even speak of it. She swore to Harold she would stay away from it, but when she was alone, truly alone, she cried upon her hardened heart.  
  
She slept with a different man every night in exchange for money. She was not only selling herself, she was selling her soul.  
  
It was always the same old show, the same customers, the same mission every night. "Nothing changes. nothing ever will," she whispered to herself. She laughed slightly. "What's the use of praying if there's nobody who hears? Nothing changes. . ." She glanced at a diamond necklace from the nightstand - a present from last night. "Nothing ever can."  
  
And yet, when she closed her eyes, a wonderful, beautiful world was before her. A warm, soft place with clouds and feathers. She remembered swirling clouds and seeing a little piece of heaven.  
  
"Heaven. . ." she laughed. "That's a place I'll probably never see."  
  
She looked over her cheek and saw a mirror, broken. She inhaled a breath - she had never noticed it before. Her face was twisted and disfigured and she smiled coldly, but it faded into nothing.  
  
"In my twisted face," she sang softly, "there's not the slightest trace of anything that even hints at kindness. And from my tortured shape, no comfort, no escape. I see, but deep within is utter blindness." She hugged her arms around her. "Hopeless as my dream dies." She gazed out of the window and onto the street. "As the time flies. Love a lost illusion. . . Helpless. Unforgiven. Cold and driven to this sad conclusion."  
  
How she wanted to be where the people were. How she wanted adventure in the great wide somewhere.  
  
"Long ago I should have seen all the things I could have been." She shook her head. It was all too late. "Careless and unthinking, I moved onward."  
  
"No pain could be deeper, no life could be cheaper. No spirit could win me, no hope left within me. If I can't love, let the world be done with me!" She screamed at the top of her lungs.  
  
She was stunned for a moment, then clamped her hands over her mouth. Had she just said. . . love? The forbidden word?  
  
No, it was this world, this street below. All of Paris was full of love. . . everywhere in Paris but at the Moulin Rouge. "And that's where it's going to stay," she said through gritted teeth.  
  
She knew the truth. "A necklace is love. A ring is love. A rock from some obnoxious little king is love. A sapphire with a star is love. An ugly black cigar is love."  
  
She sighed and folded her arms over her chest. "Everything you are is love!" She yelled at the city around her. "You would think it would embarrass all the people here in Paris to be thinking every minute of love. I don't understand the Parisians, making love every time they get the chance. I don't understand the Parisians, wasting every lovely night on romance!"  
  
This was the silliest city if she had ever remembered seeing another. "Any time and under every tree in town, they're in session two by two. What a crime with all there is to see in town, they can't find something else to do! I don't understand how Parisians never tire of walking hand in hand. They seem to love it, and speak highly of it. I don't understand the Parisians!"  
  
Marie came into the room. "Hello there," she said cheerfully, bringing her some croissants. "They're right out of the oven. . . I thought you'd like them."  
  
"Marie I don't understand the Parisians."  
  
"What do you mean, love?"  
  
"Love, exactly!" she yelled. "I don't understand them! I mean, when it's warm, they take a carriage ride at night, close their eyes and hug and kiss. And then when it's cold, they simply move inside at night. And they all think love is so miraculous and grand. They rave about it, and won't live without it." She sighed and pouted. "I don't understand the Parisians!"  
  
"I know," she whispered, setting down the tray. "It's hard to at times. You do all you can to find love, and then it gets taken away. And broken hearts are hard to mend. But you'll meet someone new. . . he'll be strong and great and beautiful-"  
  
"Marie," Satine hissed, "what are you saying?"  
  
"You'll find someone new, darling, I know you will."  
  
Satine didn't say anything for a long time, just sat back against the window and watched the people below milling around below. "I don't need love, Marie," she said, so quiet that it was almost inaudible. "I've decided that a long time ago and I'm sticking with it."  
  
"Darling, don't believe all that Harold tells you-"  
  
"No, he's right. He's very right."  
  
"He's very wrong," Marie whispered, touching her shoulder. "He's just a bitter old man with only money on his mind. Everything you've been doing lately. . . seeing all these men every night. . . I never wanted it for you. That life is one for Nini, but not you! You have so much passion inside of you. You should be out there with the Parisians, not looking down at them."  
  
Satine ran her fingers over a spot on the window as Marie sat next to her. "You should be loved by someone who knows you, wants you to blossom, always is true. You should be cherished like the first sign of springtime. You should be loved with constant devotion, heart-pounding passion flooding you through. You should be treasured like a princess, not a plaything."  
  
She waited for her to say something, and when she didn't, Marie continued. "One of these days you will look back in shame after you've learned that this is no life. You will regret how you pushed love aside when you're old and alone. When you're misery's bride you should be loved by someone who wants you, tries to protect you, always comes through."  
  
Satine locked cold, dry eyes with Marie. "Who would love me as I am, a part of this. . . this circus? Who could ever proudly stand beside me and love me as I am?"  
  
Marie's heart wrenched to see her like that. "I believe that love overcomes all obstacles."  
  
"Why?" Satine asked coldly.  
  
"Because above all things, I believe in love."  
  
Satine's face froze. Those words. . . they pinched her brain. Somewhere far, far away. . . she started to remember. She closed her eyes.  
  
Where had she heard that before? A friend? Family? A poem? Yes. . . yes, that was it! A poem! "A young man. . ." she whispered.  
  
Marie smiled broadly. "Are you remembering?"  
  
"He was. . . so beautiful," tears ran down her cheeks as she saw his dark, midnight hair, soft blue-green eyes, and a gentle smile. "What would I give to live where you are?" she san in a whisper. "What would I pay to stay here beside you? What would I do to see you, smiling at me?"  
  
She opened her eyes and grinned, then saw Marie's happy face in front of her and remembered where she was. She brushed her hair back and murmured, "That's all."  
  
"Well it's a beautiful memory. This young man. . . do you remember who he was? What his name was?"  
  
Satine shook her head roughly and stood from the window and began to sift through her dresses, smell perfume, anything to keep her mind from the small memory she had just remembered.  
  
Marie sensed this and went to the door. "I'll see you tonight on the stage," she said gently. As she was about to go, she paused. "You know, the past is nothing to be ashamed of, whatever it was."  
  
Satine nodded and watched out of the corner of her eye, pretending to be only interested with the plate of croissants. When she left, she slammed it down and harshly ran her fingers through her hair.  
  
The image of the man was burned on to the back of her eyelids, and there was tingles on every part of her body. She smiled suddenly at the warm, fuzzy feeling, but then covered it with her hand. However, she couldn't get it to go away and she was too tired to try.  
  
"Where would we walk?" she sang. "Where would we run if we could stay all day in the sun? Just you and me and I could be. . . part of your world." She looked up at the heavens and thought, for the first time she could remember in this past year, of being happy.  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to me and my good friend Baz. Kinda got the original idea of an angel(mermaid) becoming human from The Little Mermaid.  
  
A/N: I know. . . I know. . . I'm always so behind with this, and, again, I am very sorry. Hey, I saw Ewan's 'Down With Love' the day it opened and it was GREAT!! Hope the rest of you saw it as well!  
  
Songs used: 'Turning' form Les Miserables, 'If I Can't Love Her' from Beauty and the Beast(the musical), 'The Parisians' from Gigi, 'Part of the World(Reprise)' from the Little Mermaid 


End file.
